Emily
by nothernspaces
Summary: Emily van der Waals is beautiful. Soon to be head cheerleader of Beacon Hills High and best friend to Lydia Martin. A gossip, a flirt, a bitch, and a human, she is half way through her sophomore year when she notices something... off about her friends. Eventual Isaac/OC. Starts during the Season 1 finale. Not the final title I swear!
1. Chapter 1 - Formality

Chapter 1 – "Formality"

 _Or_

 _Dedicated to Mars_

The Sherriff filed an official report, of course. He always had to after this particular sort of disturbance and it was usually the same collection of facts. Where and when, the witnesses and suspects, the weapon and the motive. And finally, all of it was tied up with a short, concise little bow that he concluded from all this evidence. Sherriff Stilinski had written god only knows how many of these reports, and had always tried to logically piece together the appropriate conclusion, however this particular conclusion was left brief and incomplete. No one was really sure what had happened that night. The community was still whispering about the mysterious murder that had happened just a month ago. The Sherriff told himself the same thing that he had been telling himself for twenty years. One is an incident. Two is a coincidence

Three is a pattern.

But first, a word about Emily van der Waals:

She was beautiful. The type of beauty that was wrapped up in a slightly narcissistic smirk and eyes that seemed like as if they always knew a secret that you didn't. She was simultaneously sensual and vulnerable, self-assured and yet lacking self respect, an elevated sense of self worth which combated against her undeniable honesty.

Emily had tumbles of long shiny blonde hair and thick dark eyelashes. She was an extrovert and student of Beacon Hills High with a (vastly) below normal grade point average but exceptional gymnastic skills. To the other students who knew her from the lunch hall and her Instagram uploads, Emily van der Waals radiated an air of perfection. She had long legs, small breasts, a full, bow-lipped mouth, and – though Dutch – a tan all year round.

Emily lived a relatively non-complex life. She had a close bond with her grandmother, the classiest woman she knew, who was also the mayor of Beacon Hills. Her parents were wealthy lawyers who spent at least three months of the year in their native Holland. She shared unhealthy amounts of sibling rivalry with her older brother Michaël who went to Yale and studied law, lived in a large house nestled at the end of a cul-de-sac, and was constantly glued to the hip of her best friend, redhead Lydia Martin, whose boyfriend drove a Porsche and was almost certainly going to be appointed captain of the cheerleading squad in her junior year.

Emily and her bestfriend were normal. They were popular, quick witted, usually the centre of attention in a crowd, and loved to gossip. Both she and Lydia were confident and calm and walked down the corridors with their heads held high.

Those are the characteristic that their classmates recalled to the sheriff, that they were both normal sixteen-year-old girls.

Emily van der Waals was _normal_.

Lydia Martin was _normal_.

She was normal until she left the dance to wander to the lacrosse pitch – around 10:15 p.m. – when she faced her attacker.

Fate works in funny ways sometimes, because Emily van der Waals loved to party but, if she didn't, Lydia Martin would have bled out on the lacrosse field only to be found hours later. She would not have pursued Stiles Stilinski, Lydia's date, to ask where she had gone and five minutes later would not be kicking off her heels to run across the pitch.

 _(Struggle)_

The lights on the lacrosse field lit up with booms that made Emily's ears ring. It was strange, the knot in her stomach and the sweat covering her palms. She knew something was wrong. She could feel it. Where was Lydia? What had Jackson been talking about? _Thump_.

Something was very wrong.

Stiles stood beside her in his suit, shielding his eyes from the artificial white light. "Why the hell are the field lights on?"

Emily squinted through her lashes, scanning across the field until she came across the familiar petite figure of Lydia. She sighed, her worry washing away. That was until she saw him. _Thump_.

"Who the hell is that?" Emily demanded. Her throat was dry and sore and her feet throbbed dully whilst the knot in her stomach twisted. _Thump_.

"No," Stiles whispered in sudden realisation. Then louder again, as if he knew something that Emily didn't. "No."

Adrenaline pumped through her veins. _Thump. Thump_. Emily's long legs pumped hard against the ground, the sound of her erratic breathing pounding in her ears.

"Lydia!" She could barely hear Stiles screaming. "Run!"

Everything was in slow motion, Stiles running, Lydia looking back at them with a confused expression. Emily would later forget what happened next.

The man in the middle of the field's face shifted, what looked like fangs growing out of his gums. The blonde's already poor vision turned blurry, and all she saw next was Lydia's limp body hit the ground.

"Stop!" Emily screamed hoarsely. Racing faster towards the man she lifted her fist to swing for him.

He beat her to it, a claw reaching out and smashing into her skull, knocking the blonde to the ground.

In the official report, the doctors said her blackout was due to a mixture of shock and blunt force trauma. She landed beside Lydia in a heap, dizziness overcoming her.

Darkness began to cloud her vision.

 _(The Report)_

Just like every sort of official document, the police report failed to convey the sense of terror and confusion that lingered, unmentioned, in the town that night as students and teachers and parents lined up to be interviewed.

 _(Struggle)_

Everything was blurred when Emily awoke from her unconsciousness. She could her the fast drum of her heart in her ears and the taste of blood in her mouth. Her dirty hands shot out to grope the grass beside her, finding Lydia instead. Lydia? What happened?

Emily's confusion worsened when she tried to remember what had happened. Running. Screams. Stiles.

She tried to call out, cry for help, shout for Stiles, but when she tried only a whimper escaped her mouth. She was too confused, too nauseas, too dizzy. Suddenly, she jerked forward and retched onto the grass, the taste of bile burning her dry throat.

"Lydia!" Emily heard a voice crying. "Em!"

It was Jackson. She shouted for him, but her throat was raw and hoarse and she could only manage a small cry. Jackson ran towards them, his silhouette becoming clearer and clearer. Emily stumbled to her feet.

Jackson swooped Lydia's lifeless body up bridal style. Emily stomach lurched at the way that she flopped limply as they ran towards the school.

 _(Aftermath)_

The hospital was clean and smelled strongly of soap. Doctors scribbled on clipboards, doe eyed nurses sipped black coffee, and Emily sat quietly in her torn dress.

The ambulance had taken her a short while after Lydia. Her head was still throbbing. It was too quiet. Doctors walked too slowly. Sherriff Stilinski sat beside her, a middle aged man with thinning hair who clearly didn't know how to make small talk with teenage girl.

Jackson burst through the doors and both Emily and the Sherriff stood. "Where is she?" He demanded, looking between the both of them. He was rushing. Glancing about as if he would be able to find Lydia's room.

"Hey. Hey!" The Sherriff stopped him. "What the hell happened to that girl?"

"I-I don't know. I went out looking for her-"

Sherriff Stilinksi interrupted him. "What, you just happen to wander unto the middle of that field and you just found them there like that? Don't lie to me son."

 _He was blaming Jackson._ Emily knew Jackson. He would never punch her. He would never hurt Lydia.

"This isn't his fault!" She argued with the Sherriff.

The Sherriff looked at Jackson. "She's your girlfriend! That's your responsibility!"

Jackson threw his hands up in defence. "No, she's not, okay? She didn't go to the formal with me."

The older man paused and looked between the two teens. "Then who'd she go with?"

"Do you really wanna know?" Emily folded her arms. "She went with Stiles."

The Sherriff looked dumbfounded. "What?"

" _Stiles_ took her," Jackson said.

The sheriff looked around the hospital, shaking his head. He was beyond mad. "Somebody had better find my son."

 _(Briefly, Derek Hale)_

Emily swayed to the beat of the dance music blaring from the expensive speaker system in her living room. The party was a total success, and she didn't even feel worried about anything getting trashed because of how many shots she had taken. Her parents business meeting back in Holland was the best thing that had happened all month. She was trying to find Danny, long legs stumbling through the large crowd in her kitchen and head throbbing dully.

Em spotted one of Danny's ex's standing near the hall. "Hey, have you seen Danny?" She sounded a lot drunker than she felt. God, was her voice really that slurred?

"I last saw him in your room." Danny's ex told her with a smug grin. No surprise there. Whenever Danny got drunk he would always give up and go back to him. The older guy winked suggestively at her. "Hope you don't mind, babe."

Em groaned, making her way past him and towards the front hall. All she wanted was a dance with Danny, was that too much to ask? Besides, he was supposed to be looking out for her tonight and –

Em suddenly collided with someone dressed in leather. In her drunken state it took Emily more than a few seconds of staring at the strangers face to figure out why he looked so familiar.

 _Jesus fucking Christ!_ She thought. _It's Derek Hale._

"Where's Scott?" He demanded, glaring at the drunken teenage girl.

Em's eyes had widened considerably. Why the hell was he at her party? In her house? He was the prime suspect in an on-going _murder_ investigation! "Wh-what are you doing here?"

She could feel her heart thumping hard. Why did he want Scott? He was with Alison… The tall and mysterious man was talking to her, but all she could hear was pounding of the music and the rush of blood in her ears.

Derek grew annoyed of Emily just staring at him blankly. He needed answers. Now. He grabbed her arm and began pulling her through the house.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Emily shrieked. She clawed at his hand trying to escape his grasp. "I do cheer! You better get off me or I'll -!"

He had led her through the house and out to her front lawn. He shook his head in exasperation. "I'm going to tell you this so you can tell your friend, she needs to stay away from Scott."

Em grew even more confused. How does he know Ali? She looked away from him and was suddenly blinded by flashing lights, blinking hard to try and unblur her vision. "What are you talking abou-?"

When she turned around, Derek Hale was gone.

 _(Aftermath)_

Stiles showed up at the hospital after his father left to look for him. Him and Emily were standing at a corner, arguing in hushed voices.

"You know what?" The tall blonde spat at him. "It's good that we're in a hospital, because I'm going to _kill_ you."

Stiles dry swallowed. "I'm-I'm sorry. I lost the keys to my jeep. I had to run all the way here."

Emily glared at him. "Stilinski, I don't care!" She clenched her jaw. "I don't remember anything since I blacked out. You were the only other person there. What happened?"

He ignored her question. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"They don't know because they have no clue what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there's something else going on with her."

"What do you mean?" Stiles frowned.

"The doctors say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock. You have to have seen something. What attacked her?" Emily asked.

Stiles sighed. "No. No, I have no idea."

"Have you seen Scott?" Emily thought it had been odd that she hadn't seen Scott or Alison since the dance.

"What do you mean?" Stiles frowned. "Isn't he here?"

"What are you talking about? I've been calling him on his cell phone. I've gotten no response." Emily said, clearly annoyed.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, sudden realization crossing his face. "Yeah, you're not gonna get one."

 _(Jackson)_

Emily van der Waals and Jackson Whitmore where interviewed, of course, as were a few of their classmates. That was the source of the "when, where, how" information, and that was how most everybody else in the school later found out about what transpired at 10:15 p.m. on February 11th at the Beacon Hills High lacrosse pitch.

Emily's testimony to the Sherriff what brief ("I'm the _Mayor's_ granddaughter, you know.") and somewhat short ("Are we finished here?"). The students were urged to return home – all the students, that is, expect for those who were not quite finished with their interviews. Lydia had been taken to the hospital. The rest no one really knew.

It was the early hours of the morning and Jackson and Emily were still at the hospital, refusing to leave. They sat in their formal outfits, Emily in her scandalously form fitting dress and Jackson in his ostentatiously expensive Hugo Boss suit. Emily was shivering.

In the silence, she couldn't do much but think. Think about Lydia, think about where Scott was, and think about Derek Hale's guest appearance at her house… Ever since the new semester had started everything had changed. She noticed the hushed whispers and meaningful glances. Why had Jackson been such an asshole recently? Something was going on, Emily just couldn't put her finger on what.

She tried to read one of the magazines that was provided in the hospital, but that was no use. As usual, the letters where just scribbles she couldn't decipher.

Jackson was thoughtfully silent. Emily leaned over, and in a quiet tone so that no one else could hear, she said: "You don't think they're all hiding something, do you?"

Jackson looked at her. Em couldn't tell what he was thinking like she usually could. It scared her. "Nah." He agreed quietly. That was all he said.

 _(An Abundance of Stiles)_

Emily flipped through the pages of the magazine she had picked from the pile of unfortunately old issues of Teen Vogue and stained newspapers. She stared at the pictures of celebrities on the red carpet but she couldn't concentrate. All she could think about was Lydia.

Even though the doctors had reassured her that she didn't have to be there, Emily couldn't leave the hospital. Anxiety and worry had flowed through her body like a hot fever every since that night. Only family was allowed into Lydia's hospital room, which Emily had obviously thrown a massive fit at in the reception ("I'm the _Mayor's_ granddaughter, you know.")

Eventually she had accepted defeat as the wrinkly old hag behind the desk had threatened to have her escorted out, and sat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the corridor beside Stiles, who had stayed here the whole weekend. Overkill, in Emily's opinion, who had visited the hospital each day, going home to sleep and shower and eat.

He had tried to make conversation with her. "So…" He began, the first night since the formal, breaking a long period of awkward silence. "You're a cheerleader?"

"Mhm."

"Nice."

"Yep."

When Stiles had finally fallen into a deep sleep, his limbs sprawled across the chairs and he clung on to the 'Get well soon!' balloon that he had bought for Lydia. He snored incredibly loudly for a sixteen-year-old boy and Emily grew more and more annoyed as the minutes ticked by liked hours and her back got sorer and sorer.

She had finally had enough when he put his feet across her lap as he stretched out in his sleep, pushing them off of her in disgust. Checking to see if the old bitch behind reception was still watching her with an accusatory glare, Emily quietly tiptoed into Lydia's hospital room, thanking her gracefully long legs (one of her best assets).

Her best friend was awake, sitting upright and staring at the wall. She looked really terrible; dark circles underneath her eyes; a sallow complexion; greasy hair that stuck to her gaunt cheeks.

Emily done her best to gather all of her cheerful best friend optimism that she could, smiling at her when she sat at the edge of the bed. "Hey. I got sick of sitting with Stiles.'

That made Lydia laugh a little bit. "You don't have to be here, Em. You know that."

"Of course I do, I'm worried." Emily reached out and placed a hand on Lydia's arm. "Are you okay?"

Lydia shrugged. "The doctor says I'll have to stay in here for a few more days.'

Emily shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Lydia." If she had been an anxious mess during these past couple of days, what was going on with Lydia? The few minutes Emily had missed because of her blackout still plagued her thoughts; what had happened to Lydia? ; Who had hit her? ; Where had Stiles went?

Her best friend looked at her. "I'm fine." She said in a small voice. It wasn't true – Lydia was avoiding the question.

Emily wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into a hug. It felt like such a relief to finally be with her again. She felt herself tear up as Lydia held onto her tightly. "It's okay to be scared, Lydia. I am too." Emily admitted. Her voice sounded thick and broke on the last word she spoke; yet it felt like such a relief to touch her best friend. Lydia was tangible, she wasn't going anywhere.

She pulled away and realised Lydia was crying too. Emily wiped away the moistness on her cheeks. "You look a lot better."

This made the ginger girl raise an eyebrow at her. "Please. I look like crap."

"Yeah, you do." She admitted. Looking around the room, Emily wasn't surprised that Lydia's room had turned into a botanical garden, vases of flowers covering every inch of space in the room and overloading her senses with vibrant colour and floral scents.

"I'm going for a shower." Sighing, Lydia swung her legs over the other side of the bed and struggled to her feet.

When Emily walked back out into the corridor, Stiles was still in a deep slumber, only this time he was sleep talking. He was mumbling in incoherent sentences. Emily stood in front of his sleeping body tangled over the chairs and folded her arms.

"Mm…" He moaned. "You first…. oh, me first… okay…"

Disgust spread across Emily's features as her eyebrows were knitted together and her mouth downturned. "Ew Stiles. Get up."

He still continued to mumble. "You're dirty." Stiles muttered, pouting and making kissing noises.

She kicked him hard in the legs, not wanting to actually touch him. "Stiles get up!" Emily shouted, loud enough to attract some attention from passers by.

He finally woke with a jolt and a confused expression, getting tangled in the large Mylar balloon he was holding. The tops of Stiles' ears had turned red as he said something about the vending machine and hurried off down the corridor.

 _(Intangible)_

" _Ahhhhhhh_!"

The sudden shrill scream made Emily jump in her seat. It had come from Lydia's hospital room. Without hesitation she sprinted to the door, calling Lydia's name. She could feel Stiles running behind her with the same rushed fever.

Lydia's dad, who had just arrived at the hospital, and a middle-aged nurse (who Emily would later learn was Scott McCall's mum) were already there.

"What the hell was that?" She yelled as she wrenched open the door.

Emily ran to the bathroom, where she was met with the sound of running water from the showerhead and a soaking wet floor. Adrenaline pounded through her veins as she clumsily pulled back the waterproof curtain, expecting an injured Lydia to be lying on the shower floor.

She wasn't.

 _(The Sheriff)_

Stiles and Emily were sitting in their usual seats as the sheriff, his deputies, and Miss McCall walked past. Emily quickly got to her feet, pulling Stiles with her and walking quickly to keep up with them and listen to the conversation they were having.

"Naked? As in nude?" The sheriff repeated for confirmation, absolutely bewildered.

"I'm pretty sure they mean the same thing." The nurse replied dryly. "But yes, as far as we know she left clothing optional."

Emily and Stiles cringed. It was freezing outside at this time of the year.

The sheriff had a stern and serious look on his face. "Alright, you checked the whole hospital right?"

"Every last corner."

"Nothing suspicious?" He asked.

"Nothing. She just took off."

Mr Stilinski was deep in thought as he processed this information, turning to an officer; he commanded "Alright, lets get an APB out on a sixteen year old redhead."

"Any other descriptors?" The sheriff directed the question to Stiles, Emily, and Lydia's dad.

Emily nodded. "I think she's, like, probably five foot four-"

Stiles interrupted. "She's five foot five, green eyes, pale skin. And she strawberry blonde, actually."

"Stalker much?" She muttered under her breath.

The sheriff had had enough of the two teenagers bickering and pulled them into a corner of the hospital lobby. Stiles let out a yelp.

His dad used a hushed yet stern tone. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

Emily looked at him as If he was some sort of idiot. "Um, Lydia's my best friend. I was visiting." Stiles nodded along with her reasoning.

"Visiting hours are over." He argued.

"Are you trying to accuse us of something?" Emily demanded of the middle-aged man. Stiles rolled his eyes: Emily always had a flare for the amateur dramatics. "Because I'm the mayor's gra-"

"Uh-huh." The sheriff interrupted her rant, clearly having heard about Emily's grandmother a million times. "How about you two head home? Do you have a ride, Miss Van der Waals?"

"No." Emily seethed. "My parents are in Holland on a business trip."

"I think you had better give this girl a ride home, son." The sheriff gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder and stalked off down the corridor.

As Stiles and Emily walked hastily towards the exit, they passed two workers looking at a broken vending machine lying face down in the corridor. Stiles pretended not to notice, whistling instead.

Emily smirked at him and Stiles let out a short "Shut up" whilst glowering at her.

 _(Search Party)_

Scott was already in Stiles' jeep by the time they had reached the car park and so

Emily clambered into the backseat.

"Give me directions?" Stiles asked, looked at her in the rear-view mirror.

"I'm coming with you guys." Emily insisted.

"No you're not." Scott turned round to face her. He looked worried.

"Yeah, you are definitely not tagging along." Stiles agreed in an annoying voice.

Scott gave her an empathetic look. "Sorry Em, I can't let you get hurt."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

He looked like as if he had said something he knew he shouldn't of. "Um, nothing. You just-"

"Look," She interrupted impatiently. "Lydia is my best friend, I'm coming whether you like it or not."

The teenage boys did not want to argue with Emily and her matter of fact tone and, instead, Stiles put his foot to the gas pedal.

Scott sighed. "I promise that we'll find her, okay?" He reassured her. Emily studied his face; large brown eyes; dimpled chin; strong jawline. Scott looked like as if he wanted to say more, but instead he squeezed her small cold hand in his large warm one and turned back around in his seat.

 _(Argents)_

They came across Alison on their way and she had leaned over the window talking to the two teenage boys in the front seat. They were speaking in hushed, hurried tones, obviously not wanting Emily to hear them (she wasn't stupid).

Emily strained her ears to listen to the conversation. "Why is Em….?" "…Wouldn't…" "Your dad…" "Yeah…three guys…. SUVs" "Search party" "…Hunting…" "If… turning" "…explain after Kate's funeral" Get in."

Soon they were going well over the speed limit, pummelling down the road at an obscene pace as Scott hung out of the window sniffing the air. "Take the next right!" he yelled.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "What the hell is he doing?"

Stiles and Alison shared a look. "Uh…"

"Giving directions?"

Five minutes later Emily was traipsing behind the others, pulling Stiles' hoodie tightly around her. She couldn't see anything, only smell the musky damp scent of the forest and hear the crunch of dead winter leaves beneath her trainers. These woods were totally creepy.

The trees grew sparser and sparser as the forest made way for some sort of clearing. A massive run down house stood in the middle, moonlight licking at the sides of the wood. It looked like it had been burnt down. Windows were smashed and there was barely any roof left to hold the four walls together.

Then Emily realised: this the Hale's house, the same one that Alison's aunt Kate had burnt down and killed the family that lived there years ago. She had heard her Oma talk about it.

Emily folded her arms, shooting an accusatory glare at Scott. "Seriously? You think she came _here_?"

"Uh, I just had a really strong feeling, I guess."

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the house. "I don't know about you guys, but I don't exactly see Lydia hiding out here."

Alison agreed. "Em's right. I've never seen her here before."

Stiles nodded walking closer to the house with Emily.

"Maybe she came here on instinct," Allison said to Scott. "Like she was looking for Derek."

Emily turned around. "Derek? As in Derek _Hale_? As in that totally creepy guy who has been a prime suspect in several murder investigations that showed up at my party looking for Allison?"

"That's the one." Stiles confirmed sarcastically.

Allison and Scott lingered behind them, talking quietly.

"Whoa, hey look at this," Stiles called out to them. Allison shared a look with Scott before crouching down beside Stiles. Emily stood standoffishly with her arms folded as they examined something on the ground. "I think it's a trip wire." He said, pulling the trip wire.

Instantly, Scott was thrown up into the air and dangled upside down with a rope tied around his ankle that connected to the trees above them. Emily snorted out loud.

"Hey, Stiles?" He called out, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah buddy?" His best friend asked as he spun around. "Oh…"

"Next time you see a trip wire, don't trip it."

"Noted." Stiles said as Allison slapped a hand over her mouth to hide her audible giggles. Both of them started to walk forward in an attempt to help him down when Scott held out his hands to stop them.

He gasped, "Wait, someone's coming"

Emily raised an eyebrow and looked around at the eerily quiet forest surrounding them. "What do you mean someone's coming?"

"Just go!" Scott replied in an urgent whisper, flailing his arms about as if to ward the other three off.

Emily made no effort to move until Stiles grabbed her arm and Allison began to run into the trees. He pulled her through the darkness and into the woods, further and further until he was certain that they wouldn't be seen but could still make out Scott swinging in the distance.

And the three men that were walking towards him.

"Alli, is that your dad?" Emily whispered to the girl next to her.

Allison ignored her and watched the scene with wide eyes as her father crouched down next to Scott's head.

"What is your dad doing in the middle of the woods?" When she got no reply, Emily questioned, "Who are those guys with him?"

Stiles leaned forward. "What are they saying?"

Emily grabbed the back of his ill-fitting hoodie, pulling him backwards and giving him a pointed glare. "If he sees you he'll find Allison and realise they're still going out."

The three teenagers crouched in the middle of the moves, not moving because they had neither the gall nor the ability to move their muscles, which the cold made ache. Emily bit her lip as she watched the scene unfold in front of her and decided that she couldn't just sit there and wait any longer. Something about Alli's dad was totally sketching her out.

Without thinking, she sprang upwards with all the confidence she could muster, ignoring the sound of Allison's gasp and Stiles' frantic whisper shouting. Emily walked towards the tree in front of the Hale house where Scott was still hanging upside down, the soggy leaves squelching beneath her trainers.

She strained her ears to catch the last part of the conversation. Mr Argent was questioning Scott, with an oddly uncurious tone in his voice "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique? Is that the world you use? Or is there another way to put it? Part of your pack?"

He let the question hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Actually, clique sounds right to me."

Emily decided to stop his intimidating little power trip show down and shouted over to them, "Hey Mr Argent!"

His head turned and his lips grew into a tight polite smile. "Oh, hello Emily. I didn't know you were with Scott." She could tell that he was lying. He had noticed her from the moment she had stood up.

"We're looking for Lydia." Emily informed him. She looked over his shoulder at the big jeep and the three men that where with them. "I guess you are too?"

The middle aged man nodded. "Of course I am. Your grandmother phoned me as soon as she heard the news."

Emily folded her arms. "Oh? I didn't know that you knew my Oma."

His smile grew wider. "She is the mayor, Emily." For some reason there was a tension in the air around them and every word uttered felt forced.

She tossed her hair to the side. "You don't' have to tell me twice, Sir." Emily didn't break her eye contact with him once. "Looks like Scott's gotten into a bit of a predicament when I left him to cover this part of the wood."

Chris looked back at Scott who was still hanging from the tree, mouth agape as he watched Emily almost challenge the man.

"Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" Mr Argent inquired. There was a weight to his words that Emily didn't really understand.

"I have a feeling I don't want to."

"A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist." He went on to explain. "Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that."

Emily's brow furrowed and her lips parted slightly. Okay, it was one thing to play the overprotective, arms dealer father… But this? He was being a total asshole.

"Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

And with that, Allison father turned around to face his cronies and made his way back to the big black jeep.


	2. Chapter 2 - Turn and Face the Change

Chapter 2 – "Turn and Face the Change"

Or

Someone Old

The first time that Emily saw Isaac Lahey – or noticed him, rather – was in Tuesday fifth hour Chemistry, the class that they had shared when they were fourteen. He had a bruise on his face. It looked sore, a soft purple that blossomed on his cheekbone. He stole a glance at Lydia but quickly looked down before she could notice.

Emily slid into her seat, smoothing down her cheer uniform. She had just joined the squad – a cheerful freshman with a round innocent face and seven years of gymnastic lessons in her belt. Emily slid the large textbook out of her backpack and fell into the sleepy trance that always took over in fifth period Chemistry.

She tried to pay attention to Mr Harris, who was totally _beyond_ boring, but she just couldn't bring herself to listen to him rambling on about some sort of project in that sarcastic tone that he always had. Emily would pair up with Lydia, anyway. Her best friend was ridiculously smart for a freshman – she was already taking advanced classes.

Emily tapped her fingers against the desk as she began to smear sparkly lip-gloss all over her lips. A firm voice broke her lip product induced daydream. "Van der Waals. Maybe if you stopped worrying about you lipstick and more about this class, you wouldn't be failing." She felt her cheeks start to burn. "Beside Lahey. Maybe you'll pay attention in a new seat."

"It's _actually_ lip-gloss." Emily corrected Mr Harris loudly, which cause a few giggles and snorts throughout the class. Not because her snarky comment was funny, but because talking back to teachers always earned a few tokens of notoriety in high school society. Emily grabbed her bag moodily and her perfectly curled ponytail swung as she slammed her textbook down beside Isaac Lahey.

Their teacher only turned back to the whiteboard and continued teaching. After a few moments, the blonde glanced at the boy sitting next to her. He was looking at her too, but turned back to pay attention to the front of the class. That gave Emily a view of the yellow tinted bruise on his cheek.

"What happened?" She whispered. "To your cheek?"

Isaac frowned, a confused look on his face, as if nobody had asked him that before. Maybe they hadn't, Emily thought.

He tugged at his grey sweater that was a little to big for him – probably a hand me down- and mumbled, "Lacrosse." It was a lie. She always knew when people were lying.

When the bell rang for lunch and Lydia grabbed Emily and linked their arms, she almost forgot about Isaac Lahey and his bruise. She didn't though, not really. It lingered in the back of her mind. She wondered if she should have said anything.

Isaac Lahey and his bruise lingered, untouched, in the back of her mind for two years.

 _(Lydia, Part 1)_

Emily stood outside the front entrance of Beacon Hills High in her cheer uniform holding her books and waiting for Lydia and Allison. Lydia had begged her to wait for them over the phone since it was her first day back after being found wandering through the woods by the Sheriff. They hadn't seen each other yet as Emily had been doing extra training, which was crucial if she wanted to be the captain next year.

Everyone had been talking about Lydia's naked disappearance, from freshmen to seniors. Emily had been throwing glares everywhere; assemblies; the lunch line; lockers. It seemed that wherever she went whispers of her best friend's disappearance followed her. Emily hated gossips (even if she was one).

A tap on the shoulder interrupted her thoughts and she twirled around to face Allison and Lydia. Lydia had chosen to wear a tight purple dress and black heels due to an exceptionally long phone call to Emily the night before asking what outfit was better.

She spread her arms and Emily embraced her in a tight hug. "You look hot, Lyd." She said as she pulled away, smiling at Allison.

"Hey, Em." The brunette smiled back sweetly.

"Hey." Emily began to walk with them. "How's the runaway?"

"Others than confused," Lydia began as they walked up the steps to the entrance of the school, "I feel fantastic."

"Did the doctors give you an explanation?" Emily asked her.

Her ginger curls bounced as Lydia shook her head. "They call it a fugue state. Meaning that they have no idea why the hell I was running around the woods naked four days." She paused. "But I don't care. I lost nine pounds!"

Emily laughed as they approached the large double doors. Lydia hesitated, her smile faltering.

"Are you sure you want to do this today?" Allison asked her. "That you're going to be fine?"

Lydia looked at her and pulled one of the doors open. "Of course I am. It's not like my aunts a crazy serial killer." She said, before walking into the school. Allison looked at Emily with a look of disbelief, which made Emily chuckle. Ali hadn't quite gotten used to Lydia's unashamed honesty.

The two followed the redhead into the school, who had stopped in the middle of the hallway. A sea of high schoolers were all staring at her and there was a pause in the usual hum of the crowded halls.

Allison broke the silence, leaning in closer to Lydia. "Maybe it's the nine pounds." She suggested.

Lydia took a deep breath, gathering herself together. She flipped her strawberry blonde her over her shoulder and began to strut down the hallway, one heel in front of the other, like she was working a runaway. The look of determination on her face was commendable as she faced the teenagers in front of her that thought she was crazy.

Emily followed her, glaring at the people who continued to gawp at her best friend.

 _(Erica, Part 1)_

Emily stood in line in the gym hall with Lydia, tapping her foot against the floor impatiently. She liked gym, it was her favourite class, but waiting in line to climb the wall was brain numbing.

"This should be illegal," a voice said behind her. Emily turned around to see Stiles Stilinski nervously eyeing the wall and fidgeting. "Look at me, I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and terrible hand eye coordination."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a fifteen foot plastic wall, Stiles."

"Do I look like a physically active young person to you?"

"Nope." Emily answered. "Maybe you should go for a run instead of wasting your nights watching porn in the dark."

Stiles watched Allison and Scott climbing the wall in front of them. "We can't all be tall, blonde, Scandinavian cheerleaders."

"I'm Dutch." She insisted.

He ignored her. One thing that had always fascinated Emily about Stiles was that he never really paid attention to anything that didn't seem to benefit him. Not that he was particularly self-centred or selfish; she had just noticed that in all their years of education he never really absorbed information that didn't serve a purpose. And usually, what served a purpose to Stiles were obscure bits of information that any normal person would just overlook. "Yeah, well, at least there's a matt in case of falling." The boy sighed.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Who the hell would be dumb enough to-"

She was interrupted mid sentence by the loud thud of Scott falling flat on his back against the matt as Allison looked down, smirking at her boyfriend. The class burst out laughing, Emily and Stiles included, but Coach Finstock laughed the loudest and informed Scott, "McCall, I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy."

"Mahealani, Van der Wall," The coach bellowed after he had recovered from laughing. "Your up."

Emily rolled her eyes at the terrible pronunciation of her name. "Van der _Waals_ , Coach."

"Oh I know, I just really, really don't care."

Emily beat Danny in the race to the top of the plastic wall, obviously, true to her competitive nature. She dropped back down to the floor with ease in her harness, smirking at Danny who followed soon after.

"Fastest time yet." The coach observed. "Stilinski lets see if you can beat Miss Van der Wall's impressive score. You too, Erica!"

Emily re-joined the crowd with a bounce in her step, her ponytail swinging from side to side. Stiles walked hesitantly towards the wall, as if it was a death sentence. Trailing behind him was Erica Reyes. Emily vaguely recognised the quiet, acne ridden blonde girl from Chemistry class. She looked at the wall with a look of despair.

After a few stumbles, Stiles kicked off of the wall and returned back down to the mat. Emily's eyes travelled back up the wall and to where Erica was clinging to it desperately. She began to whimper and cry as her body quivered with fear.

Emily snorted cruelly. "Is she crying?"

The coach called up to the girl, "Erica, you dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

Beside her, Lydia rolled her eyes. "Vertigo is the dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear." She told him. "She's just freaking out."

Coach ignored Lydia and called out Erica's name again, who was still clinging to the wall and not daring to make a move. "I'm fine." She called out.

Allison looked up sympathetically at Erica. "Coach, maybe it's not safe for her to be up there." She suggested. "You know she's epileptic."

His eyes widened. "What? Why doesn't anyone tell me these things? Uh…Erica, you're fine!" The coach shouted up to her. "Just, just kick off from the wall. There's… there's a mat to catch you!"

Everyone waited in silence as they watched Erica finally tear her grips away from the bright coloured rocks she had been holding on to. She kicked off from the wall and unhooked herself from the harness when she landed.

Emily sniggered as the blonde girl pushed her way past her and into the crowd.

 _(Erica, Part 2)_

Emily stood in line in the cafeteria, tapping her foot impatiently. Ms Morrell had held her behind to talk about her grades (she was failing French). God, she hated that woman. And why did it even matter if she couldn't speak French? She was already bilingual anyway. She tightened her ponytail habitually and sighed. There were three other teenagers in front of her berating over whether to get a burger or a hotdog.

A voice from behind her made Emily jump. "Do you mind if I skip?" She twirled round. "I'm kind of in a rush."

It was Isaac Lahey. Something was different about him. He had definitely grown up – he was tall, broad shoulder, and a considerably deep voice. But that wasn't really what was so strange. It seemed to Emily that he had an air of confidence that hadn't been there before.

"No." Emily said shortly, folding her arms.

That just made him laugh. "Please? I'll buy you a soda."

She looked at him with an unamused expression. "Do I look like I drink soda? I'll have water."

Isaac stood beside her in the line, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

Emily observed his face. He was hot. Blue eyes, light brown hair, and great cheekbones. "Isaac Lahey, right?" She asked. She was almost taken aback by the sudden transformation.

He nodded. "Emily Van der Waals?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded back at him. "You're in my chemistry class."

"I am." He agreed. Emily noticed that he was wearing a leather jacket.

They had been slowly inching towards the register to pay for their food and were faced with the bored lunch lady on the other side of the counter. Emily watched as Isaac paid for her water bottle in change.

When they stepped away from the queue he turned to Emily and offered her the bottle of water.

"So," She started, as she took the bottle from him. "What's with the new look?"

Isaac smirked. "It was time for a change." He said, with some hint of a hidden meaning.

Emily noticed that he hadn't bought anything for himself but, before she could ask, he was saying 'see you later' and she was left standing holding a bottle of water, watching him leave.

Suddenly Lydia was approaching her quickly. "What was that?" She inquired, smirking.

Emily grinned. "Isaac Lahey." When Lydia raised an eyebrow in disbelief, Emily nodded. "I know."

They walked through the cafeteria, linked arms, searching for a vacant table. "He is totally cute now!" She exclaimed. "Perfect timing for your v-card problem!" This was Lydia's most recent fixation, trying to find Emily potential virginity-breaker. She hadn't even gotten Jackson involved, but so far it had only led to clumsy and awkward fumbles with his friends in the backseat of their cars.

They both started to laugh, that is until the entire cafeteria seemed to quieten and heads turned to face to the double doors at the entrance. Strutting into the cafeteria was a leggy blonde with pouty red lips, wearing a leather mini skirt and black stilettos. Confidence almost radiated off of her as she smirked at no one in particular.

The mystery girl leaned over an unsuspecting freshman, stared into his eyes, and took a bite from the red apple on his lunch tray.

Lydia stormed over to where Stiles and Scott where sitting, Emily following, and slammed her hands down on the table. Her green eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked at the girl and asked, "What… in the _holy hell_ … is that?"

The two teenage boys were also dumbfounded by the appearance of the girl, mouths agape. Something seemed to click in Scott's mind as his eyes widened. "It's Erica."

Emily done a double take at the girl in disbelief. There was no way in hell that was Erica Reyes, she thought, but the closer she looked, the more it became clear that it was her.

Erica began to strut out of the cafeteria and Scott and Stiles scrambled to pick up their bags and quickly ran out of the cafeteria after her.

Emily shook her head as her and Lydia sat down in the vacated seats. "Freaks."

 _(Lydia, Part 2)_

Emily was failing economics. Every single time she was Finstock's class he had no trouble reminding her of this and every time she would give him a sweet smile and tell him that she'd try harder.

He had been on her case ever since this year's parent-teacher conference. Emily's grandmother had to go, since her parents were in Holland, and she had to go with her, like all of the other students who's grades were below a C.

The teacher started off positively, like they always did. Emily always found it funny: sadistic teachers with nothing better to do than belittle her all day suddenly transformed into the biggest brown nosers she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life. It was all because her grandmother was the mayor; both her and Emily knew it.

"Well, lets just start with this," The middle-aged teacher smiled the smile that you would give to a collector for some children's charity. "Emily excels in two major areas – people skills and physical education."

Emily looked at her grandmother. Not a single muscle on her, once pretty, wrinkled face moved. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of Emily, because she was; it was the fact that she had heard this speech too many times from too many teachers at Beacon Hills High.

The teacher noticed but continued anyway. "Actually, Coach Finstock tells me that she has the best performance record of all students in her grade." She cleared her throat.

"Academically, however, we are very worried about her."

And that's when Emily would zone out, staring at the lucky cat waving from the desk. The same lucky cat Emily was staring at as she zoned out in second period Economics.

Tapping her pen against the desk in a Finstock induced trance, the only thing that woke her up was a shout from the middle-aged lacrosse coach. "A quick warning before we begin our review." He said in his annoying voice. It always sounded like he was deaf and didn't realise how loud he was actually being.

"Some of you, like McCall and van der Walls," He began, with that awful mispronunciation of her last name. "Might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult I'm not even too sure I could pass it."

Emily turned to look behind her at Scott, her blonde ponytail swinging as she rolled her eyes at their teacher. Scott laughed but there seemed to be something else on his mind so she turned back around to tap her pen.

The middle aged man continued, asking for a volunteer to go up and answer the first question on the board. Emily avoided his gaze by looking under her desk at her phone and checking Facebook. She scrolled and scrolled to no avail. The only juicy drama that had happened recently was the exposure of Julie Tam's boob job but everyone had forgotten about it after Lydia's stunt in the woods.

Her attention was ripped away from Julie Tam's page and to the hushed and angry whispers of the teenage boys behind her. At the word 'Derek', Emily narrowed her eyes in concentration and suspicion. Even hearing the guy's name gave her the creeps. As hard as she tried she could only the tail end of Jackson, Stiles, and Scott's conversation, before the coach interrupted them, asking them to share with the class.

They quickly went back to mumbling after Lydia volunteered to answer the next question. Emily strained her ears. Something seriously weird had been going on recently, she wasn't stupid. Stiles and Scott were always totally bizarre, naturally, but this was something else. It wasn't just one hushed conversation in the middle of Economics (she wasn't paranoid or anything) but an accumulation of everything since the beginning of the school year. Derek Hale showing up to her house party… Lydia's disappearance… _homecoming_. Emily still had night terrors about homecoming. Not that she was going to tell anyone. (she had stuffed her ripped up dress into the back of her closet and bought a dream catcher instead).

And Jackson had been keeping secrets from her.

Suddenly her attention was ripped away from the thoughts of her friends. The whole class was laughing at something, and when Emily looked up her heart sank. Lydia stood, teary eyed in front of the chalkboard. Words were scrawled across the green backdrop and it took Em a few seconds to figure out what she had written. When she finally did she blinked hard. It had to be the dyslexia. Why would Lydia write that?

But no. It wasn't her brain playing tricks on her. Across the chalkboard, Lydia had written the same three words over and over again.

"Somebody help me."

 _(Chemistry)_

Emily had taken Lydia to the ladies to clean her up and reapply her makeup, but she had decided it was best not to ask her about what had happened in Economics, for now at least. She was too shaken by it, even if she was putting on her fabulous 'Lydia' façade, and Emily knew she wouldn't get an honest answer yet.

So, instead of talking about Lydia's recent and questionable outbursts, they turned to talking about something shallower on their way to Chemistry: Emily's virginity.

"What about Noel?" Lydia pressed her. "I thought you two really liked one another."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Please. He's may be hot but he is a total pig."

"Jonah?"

"Too short?"

"Ethan?"

"Slept with Danny."

"What about Jacob? You were all over him at Court's party."

"He still isn't over his breakup with Julie Tam."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "That bitch." Emily just shook her head and laughed.

"This is impossible." Her best friend went on. "I'm this close to asking Jackson to deflower you."

"Lydia!" Emily screwed up her nose. "That is totally disgusting. He's like my brother, I don't even know how you can sleep with him."

The strawberry blonde just smirked at her.

"Gross!" Emily complained as they walked into the classroom, arms linked.

They passed Isaac Lahey, leather clad and staring at them, on the way to their table. Lydia lent in to whisper in Emily's ear. "Are you seeing that? He was totally checking you out?" She insisted and in her head Emily silently agreed, feeling a little smug. She didn't realise yet that the smirk he wore was sinister.

As per usual, Mr Harris started off the lesson with a boring, monotonous speech, which Emily expected was due to the fact that he loved the sound of his own voice.

"Einstein once said, "Two things are infinite: The universe and human stupidity; And I'm not sure about the universe."" He explained. "I myself have encountered infinite stupidity. So to combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments."

Emily could almost hear the internal groans of everyone in the classroom

She snorted, earning a playful glare from Stiles, as the chemistry teacher began to pair students off. Of course, all of the guys wanted to partner up with Erica, which was a role usually reserved for her.

"Van der Waals and…" The middle aged man before her scanned the class, looking for a partner for her. She was silently begging for it not to be Noel. "Lahey."

Lydia nudged her as she got up to make her way over to his table. She was conscious of her blonde ponytail swinging and just how short her cheerleading skirt really was (she wasn't complaining). "You two have the worst grades in the class," Mr Harris droned on. "Lets see if two heads are indeed better than one."

Emily slid into the seat beside Isaac and gave the chemistry teacher a sarcastically sweet smile.

She didn't look at her partner and instead coyly twirled the tongs on the desk in front of her. Emily had never been the type of girl to chase a boy (unless she had had a drink) and she decided that Isaac Lahey would be no different. Out of the corner of her eye she admired his leather jacket and curly hair whilst maintaining the perfect balance of poutiness. To her surprise he had actually started the experiment.

Emily was starting to get the feeling that Isaac could sit all day beside her in silence and not be bothered, until he asked, "What's your excuse?"

"Huh?"

That made him laugh. "For failing."

"I'm not great with words."

"It's not words, it's science."

"This fifty pound textbook would beg to differ."

That made him laugh again, but Emily noticed he hadn't tore his eyes away from the test tubes the entire time.

"What about you?"

He shrugged. She tapped her nails against the desk. Silence made Emily uneasy.

"So," She swivelled in her stool, legs facing him. Body language was _everything_. Her grandmother had taught her that. "Are you going to Noel Taylor's party on `Friday?"

"Don't think I'm invited." He replied. On second thoughts, Emily had never seen him at any party.

"Trust me, its Noel." She reassured him. "`You don't need an invitation. He'd let in anyone if it meant more beer."

Something changed in his face and he looked up at her. "Will you be there?"

It almost made Emily laugh. "Of course I'll be there."

"Big party animal?" Isaac looked at her in bemusement. He had clear blue eyes that suddenly made her feel like a child again. Emily nodded and could feel her big blonde curls bouncing behind her.

He went back to the test tubes and they were silent again for a minute. "You and Lydia are practically glued to the hip, right?" He asked, but it was more of an observation than a question. A random observation at that.

"Um, yeah, I guess. We're best friends." She wondered why he had said that.

"Must be cool to have one of those."

If it had fallen from anyone else's lips, Emily would have rolled her eyes but she knew when he said it he wasn't being dramatic or looking for sympathy. It was just a cynical comment from a lonely adolescent in a leather jacket. Or at least, that's what he wanted it to be.

"Switch." Said Mr Harris.


End file.
